No Dream Is Too High

• CHAPTER TWELVE • KEEP A YOUNG MIND-SET AT EVERY AGE.

You may get older chronologically, but you don’t have to grow an old-person mentality. Instead, maintain a youthful outlook—regardless of your age. Count your blessings, and enjoy every moment of life.

We all know that getting old is not for sissies. Sure, there are some things I just cannot do, or shouldn’t do, in my mid-80s that I did in my mid-20s. I’m getting older, but I don’t see myself as an old person, and I don’t think “old.” Instead, whenever someone asks me my age, I prefer to say, “I am 86 going on 40!”

One of the keys to having a young attitude is to surround yourself with younger people. I like having bright, ambitious, motivated young people around me. I enjoy their enthusiasm, and I am energized by their spirit. I embrace their technology rather than complaining that I cannot get the LED light to stop blinking on an appliance in my home.

Sure, there are times when I don’t act my age. Not long ago, Christina and I were having a disagreement. I was complaining about something and Christina responded, “Oh, Buzz, quit being a big baby.”

“I’m not a big baby,” I retorted. “I’m an old fart!”

“Okay, fine; quit being an old fart who is acting like a big baby,” Christina replied. Her response lightened the mood and we both broke out laughing.

Clearly, adulthood and maturity do not necessarily come with age. You can grow old but never grow up; growing older does not guarantee growing in maturity. You need someone around you who is honest and who cares enough to look you in the eye and say, “Straighten up! You’re not flying right.”

For years, that person in my life was my older sister, Fay Ann. She called me almost every day, and she held me accountable and seemed to know the right thing to say to me. She was always an encourager. Not that she was always easy on me—quite the contrary; she’d call things the way she saw them.

One day I was complaining to Fay Ann about pain in my elbow.

“What’s wrong with your elbow?” my sister asked.

“Oh, I’m really unhappy. I had surgery and I don’t think it was done right. I think this surgery was a failure. My arm still hurts.”

“When did you have the surgery?” Fay Ann probed.

“Yesterday,” I said.

Fay Ann was exasperated at my lack of patience. “At our age, healing takes a little longer,” she said. “Sure, we’re going to have some health problems, but we have to accept who we are, wherever we are in life. And we also have to take care of ourselves. So suck it up, little brother.”

Since Fay Ann passed away in 2012, and my other sister, Maddy, passed away in 2015, Christina is now my conscience and my indispensable crutch. Like my mother and my sisters, she is not a “yes person,” so she, too, holds me accountable, and I will be forever grateful.

Strong women have helped shape who I am—especially my mom and my two sisters, as well as my daughter, Jan. Consequently, I’ve never looked down on women or felt they were inferior to men or not as intelligent as me. And when I meet a bright woman, I love being able to communicate with her about things that really matter. My sisters, Fay Ann and Maddy, might have made great astronauts, but unfortunately, that was not an option for them during the period of time in which they lived. They were very smart, and at one point were doing way better academically than I was. My parents pointed this out to me and said, “If you don’t watch it, your sisters are going to leave you in the dust!” That certainly got my attention and helped me to focus on my studies. Later on, my sisters did what young women of that time were expected to do. They got married and had children, and although they enjoyed their lives, I wonder what they might have done if given the opportunities I had received.

The good news is that times have changed; a world of opportunities now exists for both men and women, and women need not be trapped by the stereotypes of the past. Women are now able to do anything men can do in the space program, and I’m confident we will see more women going into space in the years to come.

NOWADAYS, I MOVE A BIT MORE slowly, and I am more careful than when I was a young man. I have enough physical maladies, so I am careful when I go up and down stairs, because I’ve heard of older people falling and incurring disabling injuries. I don’t want that to happen. But regardless of your age, you have to take time to dip your toes in the water. I see lots of people lying out on the beach getting suntans, or others walking up and down the beach, but very few getting into the water. Not me. I like to get my feet wet!

We have to accept where we are in life, and every age can be exciting if you continue to pursue new adventures. Don’t allow yourself to grow stale, to stagnate due to health problems, financial issues, lack of stimulation, or anything else.

How do you measure your life? What moments have changed your life … or will change your life? Are you living or existing?

Oh, sure, I’ve come close to dying a few times, but usually I was having so much fun at the time that I barely noticed the danger. For instance, on one occasion, I was scuba diving in Malta with some friends. Around 120 feet down, I noticed an enormous school of tropical fish. Oddly, they were all moving in a clockwise direction, making huge circles. I wanted to take a closer look, so I dove deeper to check them out. I swam right into the huge school of fish, and let the fish swim straight at me as I looked them right in the eyes.

I glanced down and noticed a dive photographer below me taking pictures. About that time, my dive computer’s emergency notice sounded, beep, beep, beep! I had become so mesmerized by the unusual school of fish and was having so much fun that I had neglected to pay attention to my depth. I was too deep, coming up too quickly, and I was in danger of decompression. About that time, my dive computer indicated SOS and shut off completely!

The real problem in a situation such as this was that nitrogen had gotten into my bloodstream at much higher pressure while I was deep underwater. Ordinarily, that’s not too serious if a diver comes up slowly, taking regular decompression stops along the way, but if you ascend too quickly, air embolism occurs and your lungs cannot handle it. The nitrogen bubbles in your bloodstream don’t dissipate. Instead, they respond much like a bottle of soda that is shaken up and then suddenly opened. The gas is released and enlarged bubbles cause whatever is in the can or bottle to come bursting out. Now imagine that happening to your lungs and blood vessels. That is known as the bends, a very dangerous condition that can be extremely painful in your knee joints, and can even be fatal because of rupturing veins and all sorts of other associated problems.

This was one of the few times that I was really nervous about the possibility of dying. I might not make it out of this one, I thought. I was fortunate that I made it back to the surface and my body slowly readjusted. I felt okay, so I didn’t mention my close call to anyone—until now.

WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE. There’s no question about that. The real question is whether or not you have lived.

Sure, I have health issues just as most other people in their 80s, but I get up every morning, arrange all the pills and vitamins I have to take, pour a cup of coffee, and enjoy my breakfast as I read the newspaper. It is a new day, filled with opportunities. Why should I focus on what I can no longer do when there are so many things I still can and want to enjoy?

I hear some people complaining about growing older. Why would I want to do that? After all, think of the other options! I’m not ashamed of my age; in fact, I revel in my years. I’ve enjoyed a wonderful life, and I’m going to keep on living it to the fullest for as long as I can! I get up every morning looking forward to the future, because there’s still a lot of work for me to do.

Here in a nutshell are some more simple lessons I’ve learned over the past 86 years: Look for the good, and you will find it. Accept the bitter with the sweet, and be happy in both. Truth is, the bitter may be better for us in the long run because we probably grow and learn more from the bitter things we’ve experienced in life than we do from the sweet things. Regardless, stay positive in your attitude, and don’t carry around a bunch of negative thoughts and feelings. They won’t do you any good, and they won’t be of help to anyone else. Don’t waste your time—we only have so much of it, yet we often don’t realize that until it is too late. Don’t fritter away your future by dwelling on some failure from the past. If you fall down, brush yourself off, get up, and keep looking forward. Take care of your body; it’s the only one you get so make sure you nourish it with healthy food and restful sleep. I’ve never pampered my body, but I’ve also been careful not to mistreat it, and that has been a good balance for me over the years.

I’VE DONE A FEW THINGS THAT have taxed my endurance. Surprisingly, one of those was appearing on the 2010 season of the television show Dancing With the Stars.

Christina called me while I was in a meeting in Washington, D.C., trying to explain my unified space vision and my Mars Cycler to the science adviser to the president and several other White House staff people. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t take a phone call in the middle of a meeting, but I noticed that it was Christina calling, and because she knew I was in a meeting at the White House, I assumed it must be important.

“The casting director for the television show Dancing With the Stars wants you to be on the program next season,” she said. “Would you want to do Dancing With the Stars?”

“Okay. Yeah, sure, I’ll do that.” I was just trying to get Christina off the phone, so I could get back to my meeting.

“Do you know what that is?”

“No,” I said, “but that’s okay. I’ll do it.”

“It’s a television show where celebrities dance with professionals and they teach you how to do ballroom dances.” “Okay,” I said again, trying to hang up as quickly as possible. Christina was surprised. She hadn’t really expected me to say yes, so she reiterated the details of the invitation. “You have to dance.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“It’s a lot of work, Buzz,” Christina cautioned. “They rehearse six to eight hours a day all week long.”

“Okay, sure. Fine,” I answered, barely hearing Christina’s warning. “I can do that.”

“Okay …” She booked me on the show.

I had recently been in the recording studio with legendary music producer Quincy Jones, doing a rap song about rockets with Snoop Dogg, so I felt confident that I had some sense of rhythm and could be rather fluid on the dance floor and that I could do whatever dances were required on the show.

After all, I had learned to dance as a young man, taking lessons at the Arthur Murray Dance Studio, and we had been required to learn formal ballroom-style dances at West Point. I had also occasionally attended West Point dances called “hops.” Beyond that, on the world tour following the Apollo 11 mission, I had danced at a number of formal balls and had danced with “Miss Kinshasa,” the local beauty queen in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, after having sat outside in triple-digit temperatures as Neil, Mike, and I listened respectfully to the national anthems of seven different countries. No wonder when I came down off the platform and danced with Miss Kinshasa, her body odor nearly knocked me over. I may have held my nose, but I danced!

Neil later upbraided me for making a spectacle of myself by stepping off the platform to dance with the local beauty queen. The unflappable Apollo 11 commander might have really flipped had he known that I had spent a night dancing with Italian bombshell actress Gina Lollobrigida a few months later on our tour.

I like beautiful women and I like to dance with them, so why not go on Dancing With the Stars? What could be so difficult about that? Boy, was I ever in for a surprise!

The cast included blond bombshell Pamela Anderson, known around the world from her stint on Baywatch; Nicole Scherzinger of Pussycat Dolls’ fame; Kate Gosselin, a reality show star; sports broadcaster Erin Andrews; NFL football player Chad “Ochocinco” Johnson; TV “Bachelor” Jake Pavelka; actors Aiden Turner and Niecy Nash; and Olympic gold medalist skater Evan Lysacek.

I had actually met Evan earlier and presented him with an Omega wristwatch when he won a gold medal at the Vancouver Winter Olympics. At the time, neither of us could have guessed that we’d be ballroom dancing on a television show in front of millions of viewers.

When we gathered for the initial photo shoot and the announcement of the new cast members, the producers asked me to wear a military uniform, which I was honored to do. To complete the look, I wore my genuine Medal of Freedom that had been presented to me by the president of the United States. Evan, the Olympic champion, brought his gold medal, so we stood together for photos showing off our medals—Evan’s for skating, and mine for … well, you know.

Practicing for Dancing With the Stars was almost as tough as astronaut workouts. I honestly think it was the most difficult exercise regimen I’ve ever experienced. Maybe it was my age, but the Dancing With the Stars rehearsals may even have been more strenuous than my West Point conditioning, in which a part of cadets’ training included running up and down stairs while carrying 50-pound sacks on our shoulders.

My professional dance partner was Ashly Costa, a gorgeous, dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty. When I first met Ashly, I thought, This is a really cute babe! And as she taught me the dance steps, I had no problem keeping my eyes on her! Following her instructions? Now, that was another matter.

We rehearsed at a dance studio in Hollywood all day long, from early morning till late afternoon, every day for several weeks prior to the first show. It was challenging, but I loved being around all the attractive young people, and I seemed to draw energy from them, feeling younger and more vigorous myself. They all treated me with tremendous respect, and of course, I explained to them how they could one day be dancing on Mars.

Those kids are really in great physical shape. I was not. But thanks to the strenuous rehearsals, I actually lost a good bit of weight during the run-up to my “live” performances on the show.

One day while we were rehearsing for a group number, it was rather warm, so some of the young guys took off their shirts and rehearsed wearing only their sweatpants. Nodding toward the washboard stomachs of a couple of the male dancers, I said, “I used to look like that.” At one of the next rehearsals, I brought in a photo taken of me in a swimsuit, when I had been scuba diving and was young and buff. “See, I told you, I used to look like you guys,” I quipped.

The young professional dancers were wonderfully complimentary. “You still look like that, Buzz!” Russian-born Maks Chmerkovskiy said. Maks and Derek Hough were tremendously encouraging to me during my time on the show.

All the girls were great to me, too. I loved dancing with the beautiful girls on the show, and simply hanging out with the young people was invigorating for me.

Ashly encouraged me to turn off my mind and move to the music. That was especially difficult for me, because I was not accustomed to not thinking about what I was trying to do. I was having a bit of trouble figuring out the steps, so I told Ashly that I needed to sketch out “the trajectories” for where I needed to go on the dance floor during the numbers on which I would be dancing. I plotted out the dance trajectories so I would know where to go and what I needed to do. Once I got the dance thing down in rendezvous concepts that I could understand, I was okay!

Our first dance on the show’s season premiere was a cha-cha to the Sam Cooke version of “Cupid,” a dance with a lot of quick movements. Ashly tried to come up with choreography that worked well for me but still covered the dance floor and played up to the audience and the judges. For our performance, Ashly wore a sparkling red dress, and I wore a bright red shirt with a dazzling black vest covered in diamond-like rhinestones.

The dance went as well as could be expected, and the crowd applauded enthusiastically. One of the studio audience members seen applauding during the telecast was actor Tim Allen, the voice of Buzz Lightyear.

Ashly and I thought the routine went well, but the judges didn’t agree. The cranky, “older” judge, Len Goodman, began his critique of our routine by complimenting me. “I remember sitting at home in England watching you walking on the Moon and being amazed,” Len said, “not only at the technology, but the braveness of you guys for going up there for the first time.”

“Very lucky guys,” I agreed.

Then Len, a longtime professional ballroom dancer, declared his opinion of my dancing ability. “I want to commend you for your bravery coming out tonight. Unfortunately, I cannot give marks for bravery, just the dancing, and that wasn’t too good.”

The studio audience of more than 700 people howled in disapproval.

The quick-witted Tom Bergeron, the show’s host, jumped in and asked Len, “And how is that British space program going?” Len just shook his head and laughed.

Bruno Tonioli began by asking, “How can I criticize a hero and a legend?” But of course he did. “It’s my job,” he said.

Bruno told me, “You did a cha-cha-cha … but it looked like you had your Moon boots on.” Then, apparently trying to find something positive, Bruno said, “Let’s say it is going to get better next week.”

The third judge, Carrie Ann Inaba, picked up on one of my main reasons for doing the show in the first place. “You know, what is great about this show is that it inspires people at home to get out and do things they might be afraid of.”

“That’s right,” I agreed.

“You sure inspired a ton of people tonight,” Carrie Ann complimented me. I appreciated the judges’ kind words, but they still awarded Ashly and me the lowest scores of the evening.

The following week, for the fox-trot, I danced to the classic Frank Sinatra song “Fly Me to the Moon.” Wearing a tuxedo and a sparkling silver bow tie, I began the dance by saluting the American flag and ended it in front of an American flag, reminiscent of the one Neil and I planted on the Moon 41 years previously.

Once again, although our routine was a hit with the audience—they gave us a long, enthusiastic standing ovation—the judges were unimpressed. “The man on the Moon looks stuck on the fox-trot,” Bruno commented. “You look like you were avoiding craters,” he added.

Ashly and I performed the waltz to “What a Wonderful World.” For this dance, I was dressed in a striking military uniform, replete with my silver bow tie, attire to which I was accustomed. In the dancing story line and scenario, Ashly was supposed to be my daughter who was meeting me as I came home at the end of the war. To me, it was a story of patriotism and optimism about our future. At some point in the choreography, I was supposed to take off my hat and throw it. But in the excitement of the moment out on the dance floor with Ashly, I forgot to remove the hat. In the middle of the dance, I thought, Uh-oh, I still have the hat on. How can I get rid of the hat without messing up my motions? I kept the hat on all the way through the routine, but when one of the judges said something disparaging about my dancing talent, I took the hat off and threw it at him!

Naturally, some people said my performance was wooden and stiff, but the audience was wonderfully gracious, giving Ashly and me another prolonged standing ovation following our waltz. Ashly truly brought such grace to the dance, and I tried my best to reciprocate with charm.

Although I was the oldest person on the show at 80 years of age, the show staff didn’t excuse me from any rehearsals or rigorous practice sessions. At one point during rehearsals, I had an already scheduled space conference and speaking engagement in New Zealand. Dancing With the Stars sent Ashly along with me on the trip so we could continue practicing our dances, even though we were halfway around the world. Ashly was a trooper and never once complained about the long way to work. I filmed Ashly on my phone so I could review the steps she was teaching me, even at home.

For two weeks in a row, Ashly and I landed at the bottom of the leaderboard with the lowest scores of all the dancers. But we still received tremendous support from fans of the show. Nevertheless, we were the second couple voted out of the competition, and the fact that I was “second” once again did not go unnoticed by pundits. I didn’t mind. At least I was consistent! Besides, I’d been having the time of my life.

“I never thought I’d walk on the Moon, but I certainly never thought I’d dance on TV,” I told host Tom Bergeron on camera after learning that Ashly and I had been voted off the competition. “I did this show for the fighter pilots out there, the military people, and the elder geezers like me who would just like to see an elder come back week after week,” I added. I could feel a tear forming in my eye, so I hastily concluded my remarks, “It’s been a wonderful experience for me.”

For the season finale, although I had been eliminated, the producers asked Ashly and me to return and do a special dance along with other contestants and professionals who had been voted off the show. For our portion of the routine, the band played the Star Wars theme song. I was dressed in an aluminum-colored, “diamond”-studded spaceflight suit and shimmering silver cape and was surrounded by streams of green laser lights. I removed the cape and flipped it over to reveal a bright blue fabric, which I then wrapped around Ashly’s waist. Near the end of the number, I removed the wrap from Ashly and held it out in bullfighter fashion as she did one final swirling movement and slid gracefully onto the floor in front of me as I held the cape above her. It was great fun, and the audience loved it.

The competition was intense, and Nicole Scherzinger won the famed mirror ball trophy. Evan Lysacek earned second place on the show.

When people ask me why I did the show, I repeat the three reasons I mentioned to Bergeron: to inspire interest in the space program, to honor veterans, and with hopes of motivating some other “elder geezers” like me to see that life isn’t over just because we get a little older.

A FEW MONTHS LATER, I was performing in a cameo part for the movie Transformers 3, directed by the talented Michael Bay. I ripped through my lines and hit all my spots, without breaking a sweat.

Sitting in an area behind the monitor, Bay was watching like a mesmerized little kid, with his face in his hands. Michael whispered to Christina, “Does Buzz ever get nervous?”

“Only on Dancing With the Stars,” Christina answered.

I STILL DO A LITTLE DANCING once in a while. John Travolta helped me host a 2015 gala at the Kennedy Space Center for ShareSpace, my foundation dedicated to promoting science literacy among children. The moment John showed up, he automatically took the pressure off me and I knew I could relax. Not because I thought that he might not come, but because I knew that everybody would want to talk with John. He was a trooper and was glad to help lift the load off my shoulders.

Near the end of the gala, somebody suggested that we could boost the donations to ShareSpace if John Travolta and I got up and danced together. I was reluctant, but John insisted.

“Come on, Buzz. I’ll show you a couple of moves.”

John and I go way back, having first met on the set of the made-for-television movie The Boy in the Plastic Bubble, in which John starred and I had a bit part. The movie was hugely successful, garnering more than 45 million viewers. John is also a pilot, so we have aviation in common as well.

When we got out there in front of the crowd, I was afraid John would start into some of the moves he made famous in the movie Saturday Night Fever, with his head cocked to one side, his legs spread wide as though he were straddling a bull, and his hand high in the air. Fortunately for me, he did a much simpler routine. I did my best to copy him, but my body wouldn’t move as well as his. We had great fun, though, and raised a bunch of money to help young people learn more about space exploration.

More and more these days, I feel my own mortality. I recognize that I’m getting older; I know that every day is a gift, and something could hit me at any time. I had a stroke in Vienna years ago, and it was a frightening experience. I worry sometimes that I don’t have enough time left.

I’ve never been an overtly religious person, but I certainly understand those who are, and I have the greatest respect for them.

Long before I squeezed inside the command module of Apollo 11, perched on top of the huge Saturn V rocket that would send us racing toward the Moon, I realized that our mission would be fraught with symbolism. That’s one of the reasons why Neil, Mike, and I chose as our mission emblem an eagle carrying an olive branch, signifying our hopes that peace on Earth could somehow be enhanced because of our landing on the Moon.

Once we had landed safely on the Moon, our schedule included time to eat a meal and to rest. As a gesture of my thankfulness, I planned to participate in a personal spiritual experience by celebrating Holy Communion as one of my first actions on the lunar surface.

The idea wasn’t original to me. Explorers such as Christopher Columbus and other pioneers had done similar things when they had first landed in their new worlds. So a few weeks before our launch date, I asked my friend and pastor Dean Woodruff, minister at Webster Presbyterian Church where I attended when I was home in Houston, to help me. Dean provided some Communion wafers and a tiny chalice that I could take with me to the Moon.

Originally, I had thought of doing something more dramatic, celebrating on behalf of the entire world. But NASA had received flak following the Apollo 8 mission when astronauts Bill Anders, Jim Lovell, and Frank Borman had read from the Bible as they orbited the Moon on Christmas Eve.

Millions of people watched and listened as lunar module pilot Bill Anders spoke from space, “We are now approaching lunar sunrise, and for all the people back on Earth, the crew of Apollo 8 has a message that we would like to send to you.” Anders then began reading the Genesis account of creation as recorded in the King James Version of the Bible: “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth …”

The command module pilot, Jim Lovell, picked up the reading from there: “And God called the firmament Heaven …” Apollo 8’s commander, Frank Borman, concluded the reading: “And God said, ‘Let the waters under the heavens be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear’: and it was so. And God called the dry land Earth, and the gathering together of the waters called he Seas: and God saw that it was good.”

Frank then added, “And from the crew of Apollo 8, we close with good night, good luck, a Merry Christmas, and may God bless all of you—all of you on the good Earth.”

People of every religion—as well as most people who held to no religion—found the astronauts’ readings inspiring. But atheist Madalyn Murray O’Hair filed a lawsuit against NASA, claiming that astronauts worked for the government, so their actions and words were a violation of the separation of church and state. The court eventually tossed out the case, but NASA didn’t want any similar hassles.

So a few weeks prior to launch, when I told Deke Slayton, one of the original NASA astronauts who now ran the Apollo 11 flight crew operations, what I planned to do, Deke balked. “No, that’s not a good idea, Buzz,” he cautioned me. “Go ahead and have Communion, but keep your comments more general.”

I didn’t agree with Deke at the time, but I understood and complied with his instructions. Looking back, he was probably right.

Once Neil and I had shut down the engines and completed our checklist, from my position in the Eagle, now located on the Sea of Tranquility, I radioed Mission Control. “I would like to request a few moments of silence,” I said, “and invite each person listening in, wherever and whomever they may be, to pause for a moment and contemplate the events of the past few hours, and to give thanks in his or her own way.”

My way was with a symbolic wafer and thimbleful of wine that I had packed in my personal belongings pouch. We had little room for extras on board the Eagle, but the Communion elements didn’t take up much space, and this was something special that I wanted to do, not just for myself but as a symbolic act of gratefulness for all mankind.

I pulled out a three-by-five card on which I had written the words of Jesus: “I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me, and I in him, will bear much fruit; for you can do nothing without me.” During the few moments of silence, I read the words on the card quietly, to myself. Then I pulled out the Communion wafer and the sealed plastic container of wine and poured it into the chalice Dean had given to me from our church. Although it was a spiritual moment, I was still a scientist, so I couldn’t help noticing that in the Moon’s gravity—only one-sixth of that on Earth—the wine curled ever so slowly and gracefully up the side of the chalice before finally settling after a few moments. I slipped the wafer into my mouth and then drank the wine. I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing, and Neil looked on respectfully and silently as well. I offered a silent prayer of thanks and for the work yet to be done. Neither NASA nor anyone else in the U.S. government ever let on what I had done during the moments of silence on the Moon.

Over the years, I’ve often wondered if I did the right thing, that perhaps I should not have engaged in such an overtly Christian rite, because we wanted to emphasize that we had traveled to the Moon on behalf of all mankind—Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, agnostics, and even atheists. But I cannot deny history. The truth is: The first liquid ever poured and the first food ever eaten on the Moon were Christian Communion elements.

At the time, I could think of no better way to acknowledge the enormous achievement of Apollo 11 than by giving thanks to God. When I got back home, I returned the small chalice to Webster Presbyterian Church. The church treated it as a special part of its history, encased it in a glass ball, and displayed it in the church library for all to see. Then oddly, for a time, the chalice mysteriously went missing. Years later, the church received a box in the mail. Inside was the chalice and a typed note of explanation. The sender admitted to taking the chalice as a youngster, not really understanding the significance of it or the seriousness of stealing it. Now, as an adult, the person realized that the chalice belonged to the church—and to the world. It was returned, and the congregation continues to celebrate a special Lunar Communion every year. Today, however, they display a replica chalice, and the original is now in a safety deposit box.

Symbols matter, and my hope was—and is—that people of any faith can celebrate the goodness of God and the achievements of mankind. Regardless of how you believe the universe was created, it is there waiting for humans to explore.

Recently, Christina and I were talking about religious subjects and I surprised her by saying, “I think I may be an atheist.”

“I don’t think you’re an atheist,” Christina countered.

“You don’t? Why not? I’m certainly a skeptic.”

“Yes, but you also believe in a higher power.”

She had a good point. I’d seen numerous men and women find real strength and hope to overcome the strongest addictions by looking to a higher power. On the other hand, I’ve been all over the world, I’ve met people who hold to all sorts of religions, and I have encountered many diverse cultures. I’ve met good people in all walks of life. That has given me a different perspective on my faith. Who am I to criticize or demean anyone else’s religious beliefs?

I don’t go around giving testimony to my faith, and when anyone asks me about the Communion on the Moon, I tell them that I wanted to do something that was symbolic and something that was appropriate for the magnitude of what we had accomplished. The best way to do that was to encourage everyone to give thanks in their own way.

I am not afraid of dying, but what concerns me is that I might run out of time before I get everything done that I want to do. And there is so much more that I want to do! There are so many things I want to accomplish and people I want to impact. I’m not done yet. I have more to contribute. As a matter of fact, keep your eye on me; you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet!

SOMETIMES, THOUGH, THE LITTLE irritants in life create discomfort and distress. That’s why you need to learn to deal with them quickly, rather than allowing them to continue to bug you.

Several astronauts, including Gene Cernan, Tom Stafford, and I were invited to attend the 2012 Olympics held in London. Everyone was excited because the phenomenal U.S. swimmer Michael Phelps would be attempting to win unprecedented 16th, 17th, and 18th gold medals.

We were in a hurry, so I had to get dressed quickly, and as we piled into the van that would take us to the swimming pool arena, I noticed a pain in my foot. “Gosh, my foot is killing me,” I said to Christina.

“Are you sure you want to go?” she asked. “We can stay at the hotel.”

“No, no,” I downplayed the pain. “I’m all right.”

When we arrived at the Olympic area, our van driver dropped us off as close as possible, but we still had to walk quite a distance to get to the VIP lounge that Olympic officials had so generously provided for us. As we walked, I felt the discomfort in my foot getting worse, and said so to Christina.

“Well, stop for a second and check. Is there something in your shoe?” Christina asked.

“No, no, let’s keep going.”

When we arrived in the reception room, I temporarily forgot about the pain in my foot as Gene Cernan and I got caught up in a conversation about our “fighter pilots’ vision.” Over the years, my eye doctors had occasionally recommended I wear glasses to improve my vision. Instead, I had undergone four surgeries and other medical procedures to help my eyes overcorrect and counteract the normal effects of aging. As Gene and I were talking about it, Christina interjected, “I just don’t understand why you don’t simply wear glasses.”

Gene jumped in, “Oh, no, no! You don’t understand. We’re fighter pilots. We’ve had perfect vision for most of our lives. We don’t want to wear glasses now. I’m with Buzz on this one.”

I smiled. Gene and I had known each other since working on the Gemini and Apollo space programs, and I think this was the first time he and I had ever agreed on anything! Christina knew it was futile to further discuss any corrective lenses for either of us.

Soon it was time for us to leave the VIP lounge and head for our seats at the swimming competition. We watched several preliminary heats, and Michael Phelps won two more gold medals, and I still had the pain in my foot! Finally, after nearly four hours since I first noticed the discomfort, Christina convinced me to take off my shoe.

I gingerly removed the shoe from my foot and said, “Hey! I think there really is something inside my shoe.” I reached my hand into the shoe, and to my amazement, I discovered a pair of socks stuffed deep in the toe of my shoe! Apparently, in packing for our trip, I had put the socks inside my shoes and had forgotten to take them out. How could I have missed something so obvious?

Christina burst out laughing when she saw the socks. “Why didn’t you take off your shoe four hours ago?” she asked through her giggles. We both laughed all the way through the next swim event, with Gene giving us dirty looks the entire time.

Don’t let the little irritations of life keep you from enjoying the moment. I walked around in pain for more than four hours because I refused to address the real problem. Some people walk around for four years, or four decades, with an irritant rankling in their hearts or minds, and it makes them miserable. Take quick steps to alleviate any bitterness or resentment or other irritations. They don’t get better with time; they simply make your life more miserable. As we age, anyone can become cynical. But you don’t have to. Watch out for those little foxes that can destroy the entire field. Life is too short to let the little things get to you.

Okay, so you are getting older. So what? It beats the alternatives! Have patience with yourself and a generosity of spirit with others, and always keep your zest for life.